


and any courage is a fear

by sevendeadlyfun



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 10:40:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1937805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevendeadlyfun/pseuds/sevendeadlyfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Kissing is how he figures out that it’s not just girls he likes - it’s people. All bodies are good bodies under his lips. The softness of curves or the jut of corded muscles both give way under his touch and it’s fucking beautiful.</i> Finn tries to explain what he loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and any courage is a fear

**Author's Note:**

> Another little snippet of an AU My Mad Fat (Queer) Diary because my pan/poly Finn feels need go somewhere FFS. Title taken from the poem [[as freedom is a breakfast food]](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/237676) by ee cummings.

He loves kissing. More than sex or wanking or - well, maybe not more than music but it’s pretty close. His mouth touching someone else’s mouth, gliding over their skin, is as close as he thinks he’ll get to silencing the bullshit that goes on in his head. It doesn’t happen when he’s fucking -  he’s thinking about how to get them off, how they feel wrapped around his cock or his fingers, about the slow burning in his belly when he whispers filth in their ear and they moan for him. But kissing?

 

It’s skin on skin, a blessed bubble of quiet where he can just be.

 

Kissing is how he figures out that it’s not just girls he likes - it’s people. All bodies are good bodies under his lips. The softness of curves or the jut of corded muscles both give way under his touch and it’s fucking beautiful.

 

He wishes more than once he had the words to explain this to Rae. His mouth is made for kissing, not talking. No matter how many times he tries to press his truth into her flesh, she don’t understand.

 

Nothing’s what she fears. Thinking she ain’t enough or maybe she’s too much - he can’t tell sometimes and he wonders if maybe it’s not both. She’s clever, though, his Rae. She notices things about thing, stuff he thinks maybe slips past everyone else. She don’t just see him as pretty (though she does confess how sexy he is one night after a great deal of drinking and he spends an hour kissing his heart into her mouth before making her scream the house down) - she sees him, really truly sees him.

 

At night in his bed, with his lips traveling well-worn paths across her body, she confesses to him. She confesses her wants and asks him about his with a voice gone hoarse from moaning.  She worries he’ll get tired of her and she worries that wanting what she wants means she don’t love him. He sighs into the arch of her throat, letting the words vibrate against his mouth.

 

Later, when he’s had time to think, he’ll tell her about his first clumsy kiss. Him and Archie, sitting in his room listening to some radio programme whose name he’s forgotten, just sharing the quiet. His birthday had come and gone with no word from his Mum - again. The thin arm Archie throws around his shoulder feels better than winning a championship match and all he can do with the feelings pushing their way up in to his throat is plant a soft kiss on the side of Archie’s mouth.

 

“So we’ve both kissed Archie?” she says laughingly, quirking her lovely lips to one side.

 

“Yeah,” he replies. “And I love you no less for it.”

 

“Does it mean you’re gay?”

 

“No.” His head shakes once. “Just means - it means - fuck, Rae. I dunno. I love ya, yeah? And just cause I love someone else don’t mean there isn’t enough left for you.”

 

The kiss she gives him is enough to stop all the rest of his rough, fumbling words in his brain from leaking out his mouth.

  
  
  
  



End file.
